“Nor did she know, with all her pretended art, that my husband was to be a soldier, fair-haired, and blue-eyed, and that this little lass would give a direct contradiction to her prophecy,” and Flora kissed fondly Josey’s soft cheek. “Well, I was so tormented about that last clause in my fortune, that I determined it should never come to pass; that whatever portion of my husband’s dress I coveted, I would scrupulously avoid even the insertion of a toe into his nether garments.” “You forget, Flora, your trip to the mountain, without my consent?” whispered Lyndsay, mischievously. Flora coloured, stammered, and at last broke into a hearty laugh,—“I was too great a coward, John, to wear them with becoming dignity. If that was wearing the breeches, I am sure I disgraced them with my worse than womanish fears. I will never put them on again.” “My dear wife, I’ll take good care you shan’t. When a Scotchman has any breeks to wear, he likes to keep them all to himself.” “Ah! we well know what a jealous, monopolising set you are. Let any one attempt to interfere with your rights, and, like your sturdy national emblem, you are armed to the teeth,” said Flora, as she ran off to order tea. CHAPTER XXIV. A VISIT TO THE SHIP OWNERS. Early in the afternoon of the following day our family party set off to pay their promised visit. The weather was delightful, and Flora was in an ecstasy of high spirits, as they turned from the narrow streets of Leith into a beautiful lane, bounded on each side by hawthorn hedges, redolent with the perfume of the sweetbrier and honeysuckle. The breath of new-mown hay floated on the air, and the lilac and laburnum, in full blossom, waved their graceful boughs above the white palings which surrounded many a pleasant country retreat, in which the tired citizen, after the toils of the day in the busy marts of commerce, returned to enjoy a comfortable dish of tea with his family. A walk of half-a-mile brought them to the suburban retreat of the worthy Mr. Gregg, and he was at the green garden-gate to receive his guests, his honest, saucy face, radiant with an honest welcome. “I was fearful ye wud not keep your promise,” said he: “my youngsters ha’ been on the look-out for you for this hour.” Here he pushed the giggling youngsters forward, in the shape of two bouncing, rosy-faced school-girls, who were playing at bo-peep behind papa’s broad blue back, and whose red cheeks grew crimson with blushes as he presented them to his guests. James Hawke seemed to think the merry girls, who were of his own age, well worth looking at, if you might judge by the roguish sparkling of his fine black eyes, as he bounded off with them to be introduced to the strawberry-beds, and all the other attractions of the worthy citizen’s garden.